Us Chickens
by ethanhaas
Summary: He noticed that her mouth had closed rather abruptly, and with an internal wince, found this to not be a permanent improvement. George and Hermione find differences, common ground, and a mutual affection for exploding cookies.


Us Chickens

by ethanhaas

"Is Ron here?"

"Don't believe so."

"And Harry?"

"Ginny dragged him by the bollocks somewhere. Shopping, I think."

"No Ginny. What about Mol-"

"Nobody here but us chickens, Granger. Devilishly handsome and brimming with wit though said chickens may be, I'm going to hex your mouth shut if you feel the need to go down the Weasley list. It'd take all afternoon, and I really do have more important things to be attending to." He noticed that her mouth had closed rather abruptly, and with an internal wince, found this to not be a permanent improvement.

"And these important things would include…?" He also noticed that her right hand had moved infinitesimally in the direction of her wand.

He gestured at the table in front of him, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with the napkin in his other hand.

"Tea."

"Not Head Girl for nothing, Granger."

Too tired to be miffed, she summoned a teacup and set about making herself a cup of tea before sitting down opposite him.

"Mind if I join you, George?"

He glanced at her over the top of his _Daily Prophet_, sighing quietly as he pushed a plate of biscuits toward her. "By all means."

"So how's the new product line coming along? Something about customizing those daydreams, wasn't it?" She took a bite of her biscuit, letting the tea steep as she fixed him with a genuinely curious gaze.

"Just swimmingly. Seems to be a good market for snacks and candies that make you breathe fire."

At that moment, Hermione stopped chewing and stared in incredulity (and rapidly blooming fury) at the man sitting across from her. She pointed to the plate on the table, then to herself, and then raised her shoulders, as though asking a very simple question. Pathetic pantomime though it was, it was plainly intelligible. George rather fancied the idea of pretending he had no idea what she meant.

"Sorry, couldn't quite make that out."

Chewed biscuit still in her mouth, she made an indistinct noise in her throat. Hermione glared at him while she retrieved a hair tie from her wrist and secured her hair away from any possible flames before swallowing and taking the chance to speak.

"I…" She waited a moment, and then blew out softly. "I have half a mind to kill you, George Weasley."

"I'm not worth your time in Azkaban, love. And, my, Hermione, have I mentioned how simply ravishing you look today?"

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her tea, trying to hide her smile as she made a mental note to buy a few of those blasted biscuits. _Might liven up Thanksgiving with Mum and Dad, _she thought dryly. Hunger now forgotten, she smoothed her skirt a little and picked up her tea again.

"All jokes aside-"

"-I'll believe _that_ when I see it-"

"-do you take anything in your tea?" He sat up a little straighter, poised to get up and find sugar and milk in the cluttered kitchen. She tilted her head very slightly, regarding him with a small smile on her face.

"No, I don't suppose you would." Her grin broadened, and he found himself smiling too.

Hermione ducked down and fished a Ministry of Magic ledger out of her purse. (It couldn't really be called a purse, but there just isn't a store in Diagon Alley that will admit to selling grown-up book bags.) Tucking her legs neatly beneath herself, she was immediately in her element.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, George?"

"How did you know it was me, and not Fred?" The paper had settled unnoticed on the table, and he found himself leaning forward, trying to ignore the sudden jump in tempo of his heartbeat. His hands seemed to be folding his napkin into sixteenths of their own accord.

She offered that same small smile, as though once again, he was asking a particularly foolish question.

"Oh, don't give me that. Don't act like you're never wrong," he mumbled, taking a sip of his tea.

"It's rare," she shot back quietly, fighting a Cheshire grin.

"You dated Ron for what, a year?"

"And four months. But we all make mistakes," she said, waving a hand dismissively.

"But all that pining for years leading up to the aforementioned mistake…"

Without looking up from her report, Hermione picked up one of the biscuits from the plate on the table and threw it at George's head. A few short seconds later, she noticed with mild surprise that his head was on fire.

"Something burning, George?"

"What? Oh – OH!" A quick stream of water from her wand later, and he was damp but seemingly unharmed. She busied herself with her ledger, doing absolutely everything in her power not to laugh at his furiously red face, somewhat obscured by his sopping hair.

"The biscuit on top was normal. Supposed to lure, you know, whoever should happen to get to the plate first into a nasty surprise," he grumbled, pushing his hair off of his forehead

"Not too shabby, Weasley. Purely visual flames – worth a few NEWTs in my book."

The disgruntled façade was rapidly losing ground as he had to try to keep himself from smiling. He separated the sports section from the paper and handed her the rest. She took it with a satisfied grin and tossed the ledger unceremoniously onto the table.

"For an insufferable know-it-all, you're almost tolerable, Granger."

"Stick with me, kid," she said as she ruffled the pages of the international section. "I have fun like this all the time."

Author's note: hello fabulous readers! I'm fairly new to George/Hermione but it's been fun to explore so far and I have all kinds of fun ideas for where this can go (involving the Weasley clock, a food fight, and muggle libraries) so I'd dearly love some feedback!


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